


If I Had You

by Lisamc21



Series: Songs and Moments [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: David wears The Leather Jacket, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Gay Bar, M/M, Patrick Brewer is Fond, Rachel is Patrick's BFF, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisamc21/pseuds/Lisamc21
Summary: Patrick is new in town (and newly out) and decides to go to a queer pop-up bar event where he meets David in The Leather Jacket. The background to this fic is Adam Lambert's "If I Had You" song.It's the second in my "Songs and Moments" series, which is a series of short fics where I got ideas for David and Patrick moments while listening to songs. This series is not meant to be read in any order - each piece is standalone and they're not part of a single imagining of their relationship (i.e., I might end up with 50 meet-cutes *shrugs*).Rated mature for profanity and kissing and mentions of sex.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Songs and Moments [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904128
Comments: 44
Kudos: 220





	If I Had You

Patrick thanked his Lyft driver and climbed out of the car. The car drove away, which left him stranded on a sidewalk across the street from his destination. Try as he might, his feet wouldn’t carry him across the street. He could do this. He could walk into a bar alone and be his best gay self.

Eventually.

After a few more minutes to collect himself. 

He studied the exterior of the bar sandwiched between an animal groomer and a quilting shop and hoped that staring would help him acclimate. A handful of rainbow flags hung from the glass windows at the bar entrance. At least he knew he was in the right place. 

A buzz in his pocket pulled his attention. He pulled out his phone and smiled at it when he saw Rachel’s name pop up.

Rachel  
  
Did you leave your place yet?  
  
Just got dropped me off.  
  
Quit being a chicken shit and get in there.  
  
How do you know I’m not already inside?  
  
[eyeroll emoji] If you were in there, you wouldn’t be texting me right now because some hottie with a naughty body would be buying you drinks. Obviously.  
  
You’re ridiculous.  
How about you get in there and go dance with some sexy guy until he gives you a BJ in the bathroom?  
JFC. I never should have told you where I was going tonight.  
If you hadn’t, you’d still be at home. Then tomorrow you’d be kicking yourself for not going to this “pop-up queer event” and we’d have this entire conversation AGAIN the next time it happened.  
Seriously though? What kind of weird ass place did you move to that requires a pop-up queer bar?  
If you’d been to Elm County, you’d understand. Not sure how big the queer population is here.  
Stop stalling.  
Fine, I’m walking in.  
Don’t text me again until you’ve gotten a guy’s number.  
I see the dots bouncing. CAN’T YOU READ. Don’t. Text. Me. Again. Go forth and be gay, BFF!  


Patrick pocketed his phone and checked the street to cross. Rachel was right. If she hadn’t have talked him through picking an outfit and threatened to order his Lyft for him, he probably would have stayed home. Though, he’d have to see how the night played out before he decided whether or not skipping it would have ended up being a regret.  
  
He’d been to the bars in Elm Glen a few times to catch games since he’d moved to the area last month, but it had been damn near impossible to try and meet a man who liked men. He’d spent his entire life assuming everyone around him was straight unless told otherwise. It had been a mindfuck and a half to try and reverse that hetero-normative thinking, but it also made it really hard to tell whether someone was flirting or simply bantering about the Blue Jays.  
  
As he opened the door, the bass of an electronic dance song pulsed in his chest. A definite departure from his usual folk and bluegrass tastes. For being half past nine, the place was still fairly empty. A couple dozen people were scattered at the bar, high top tables, and the dance floor at the far end of the room. He’d only been to that bar once since moving to the area, but this club vibe was a departure from his last visit. This time the lights were dimmed and tables in a far corner had been moved away for a dancing area. He wasn’t sure why queer night meant it had to be a dance club, but he’d go with it.  
  
Patrick beelined for a seat tucked at the corner of the bar’s narrow end. It should give him a great view of the entire place (and people) while allowing him to stay hidden if he didn’t want to be seen.  
  
By the time he’d finished his second bourbon on the rocks, he had a nice and light buzz going. The crowd had almost doubled and the the music even had some pop songs he recognized scattered between the electronic stuff.  
  
“Want another?” The bartender winked at Patrick. Probably a couple years younger with long hair pulled up in a bun. Cute but Patrick didn’t feel the zing he was looking for. He’d never felt the zing before, but he wanted it now. The few dates he’d gone on since coming out had been zing adjacent, and he felt like he was getting closer.  
  
“Sure, thanks.” Patrick pushed his glass toward the smiling man. He angled his body so his back was to the wall and did another visual scouting of the crowd. Out of the people who were in his age range of interest and who appeared to possibly be men, no one jumped out at him. He didn’t know what, or _who_ , he was looking for, but knew he’d recognize it when he saw it. An energy or magnetic pull. Something. There had to be _something_ different than logic and reason and being with someone because it made sense on paper.  
  
Rachel had made perfect sense on paper, and thank God she’d been a wonderful partner. Damn near perfect except for one thing he now knew was missing. That he may not have ever recognized if Rachel hadn’t point-blank asked him six months ago if he liked men. After that awkward as hell conversation, he’d adapted to the possibility of being bi pretty quickly. But once he’d dropped his defenses and allowed himself to consider the prospect of being attracted to men, it had become immediately clear he didn’t feel the same way about women—about Rachel—as he did with men. Every day he was grateful that she’d stuck by his side once he fully understood his identity and realized he’d never love her like she deserved.  
  
“Here you go.” The bartender’s fingertips brushed Patrick’s. Judging by the man’s wink, it was intentional. Patrick felt… nothing. Nothing beyond the urge to pull his hand back. Huh.  
  
The weirdest part of fumbling around to map the edges of his gay identity was realizing he didn’t have to be attracted to all men to be gay. He knew he didn’t have to be attracted to all women to be straight, but there had been a constant doubt in the back of his mind. Every time he saw a man who was objectively attractive but he wasn’t attracted _to_ , he doubted himself. If he could feel that zing, that would make all the difference.  
“Thanks, man.” Time to employ bro language.  
  
He did another visual sweep of the bar and spotted the crowd by the entrance shifting, almost like a parting of the sea. First, Patrick noticed hair. A tall, styled swoop that stood above most others. Then a face. Fuck. _That face._ Patrick’s grip tightened on the glass as his gaze traced a stubbled jawline that could cut glass.  
A sensation tugged low in his belly as heat spread through his limbs. He wanted to feel a zing? He got a fucking zing.  
  
Patrick focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.  
  
The man stopped at the far end of the bar and leaned an elbow against it as he scanned the room. Jesus. That leather jacket screamed “down to fuck” in twelve languages. Patrick damn near dropped to his knees to pray the guy wasn’t looking for his date.  
  
In. Out. In. Out.  
  
He picked up his glass with hands as steady as possible and took a drink.  
  
Get a grip. It was a hot guy in a bar in the boonies of Ontario. Not a big deal. If Patrick lived in Toronto, he’d probably see guys like that all the time. Right? Maybe.  
The man caught Patrick staring. Shit. Shit fucking shit fuck. Dammit.  
  
Patrick froze. His self-preservation instinct screamed for him to look away, but he couldn’t. The man’s dark eyes were like a UFO hovering over a field, sucking Patrick up in a beam of light. The man smirked, and holy hell, it was deadlier than a WMD. Patrick shifted in his seat, but didn’t break eye contact until the man did. His shoulders dropped at the release of the guy’s focus like his attention had been a puppet’s strings.  
  
Patrick gave his head a shake and damn near pulled out his phone to text Rachel. But if he did, he knew she’d give him a ration of shit about being brave and going over to talk to the guy. And sitting on his phone didn’t exactly project approachability.  
  
Corralling his remaining dignity after that intense staring contest, Patrick returned his attention to the dance floor and watched the dense crowd of couples pressed up against each other. He hadn’t seen that much grinding since prom. Okay, and _occasionally_ , he looked back at Mr. Leather Jacket. The guy’s perma-smirk had Patrick thinking he’d been caught looking a time or two. Oops.  
  
Five minutes. He’d give himself five minutes to work up the courage to do something. Ask him to dance? Send him a drink? Go over and say hello? What the hell was he supposed to say? _Hi, are you into guys? I hope so since you’re at this queer pop-up event. I’m newly out and think you’re hot, and hey, wanna touch my dick or grab dinner?_ Yeah, a real winner.  
  
“This is for you.” Patrick turned his attention back to the bartender. “From the guy in the leather jacket.” The bartender eyebrows shot up and he seemed both jealous and impressed.  
  
“Um-“ he cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s for me?”  
  
The bartender shook his head and chuckled. “You’re lucky. He’s hot.”  
  
“You’re telling me.” Patrick looked over the bartender’s shoulder and found the man smiling at him. Well, sort of a smile? Like his smile had been shoved into one side of his mouth and it hot damn did it work for him. He held up a shot glass and Patrick held up the one that had been delivered in a return salute. They both took their shots. Patrick only broke eye contact long enough to tip his head back and down the liquid. Feeling confident from the man’s attention and the few drinks, he licked the whiskey from his lips while he stared into dark eyes. The man’s grin deepened. Out of all the people in the bar, that guy had singled out Patrick, and he wasn’t about to waste that opportunity.  
  
As if divined by the heavens themselves, the two women occupying the stools next to him stood and left. Before he could stop himself, Patrick motioned toward the empty seat. He hoped Mr. Leather Jacket couldn’t see how hard his heart thumped inside his chest.  
  
The man began walking over. Fuck. Okay. Game time. Patrick knocked back the rest of his bourbon.  
  
Mr. Leather Jacket slid onto the stool in an astonishingly graceful manner. His cologne knocked Patrick’s senses away for a moment. It was sweet and woodsy. Cedar maybe?  
  
“Hi.” He leaned close to speak over the music.  
  
“Hi, back.” Patrick smiled. “I’m Patrick.” He almost held out his hand for a shake, but he didn’t want to come off as a dorky business guy.  
  
“David.” David angled his body so his knees knocked against Patrick’s.  
  
“Well, David, thanks for the drink. I believe it’s my turn to get a round. What would you like?”  
  
The smirk was even more potent up close. “Whatever you’re having.”  
  
Among all of the thoughts racing through his mind, one of the loudest was regret that he hadn’t spent some time Googling how to have conversations with sexy men in a bar. Because what the hell was he supposed to say?!  
  
“Do you usually come to these pop-ups? I feel like I would have noticed you before.”  
  
Patrick resisted the urge to tug at his collar. Damn, it had gotten hot in there all of a sudden. “My first one. I just moved to the area last month. Is it always so—“ he glanced around the room.  
  
David laughed, and Patrick wanted to wrap himself in the sound. “I can tell you’re trying to find a nice descriptor, but, yeah, it’s always so.” David waved a hand around them. “They always turn it into this club vibe, which I don’t get. Do they think queer people only like clubs or that straight people don’t?”  
  
“I thought the same thing!” They grinned at each other and a couple layers of Patrick’s nervousness fell away at the warmth in David’s smile.  
  
Patrick ordered their next round.  
  
“How is your first queer pop-up experience in the greater Elms faring?” He waved a hand and gestured around them.  
  
_I can do this. I can flirt._ “I’d say it was iffy until about five minutes ago, but now it’s pretty spectacular.”  
  
“Spectacular. Quite the expectation you’re setting.”  
  
“I call ‘em as I see ‘em.”  
  
The bartender sat two bourbons in front of them and Patrick raised one. “To spectacular pop-ups?”  
  
David clinked his glass against Patrick’s and repeated the words. They held eye contact again as they took a drink. He’d never expected simple eye contact to somehow simultaneously strip him of his defenses and reason to replace it with a surprising boldness.  
  
“Are you waiting for anyone?” David pressed his knees tighter against Patrick’s.  
  
He shook his head as he waited for his voice to find its bearings. “Nope. Decided to brave the Elm County club scene by myself.”  
  
One of David’s thick eyebrows arched upward. A move that was clearly well-practiced.  
  
“What about you?”  
  
“I usually go clubbing—“ he grinned “—with my straight best friend, but I didn’t want to hear her complaining all night that there’s no one for her to hit on.” David rolled his eyes. Patrick could tell there was a story there and he wanted to hear it. It would probably involved a lot of facial expressions and hand waving, judging by the glimpse he’d already had in the short time they’d been talking.  
  
Patrick laughed. “My straight best friend is the opposite.” He paused for a moment and took notice of how he could refer to Rachel in that way without being hit with a wave of guilt. Huh. That was… nice. “She’d take wing woman to a new level. Probably would have done a few scouting passes around the bar and interviewed any prospects, then given me a full report before I finished my first drink. She’s, uh, efficient.”  
  
David’s eyes twinkled. “She sounds methodical. What do you think her report would have been on me?” He leaned against the bar and dropped his elbow on it.  
Seizing the opportunity, Patrick pulled out of talking-over-loud-music range to let his gaze slowly roam over David’s snug jeans, pausing at the hint of hair through the deliberate tears in the black denim, the black T-shirt tight enough to hint at a defined chest, and the leather jacket that should be illegal in the province. Possibly the entire country. Patrick admired his face and damn near leaned over to rub his face against the stubble on David’s cheek to see how it felt. David’s smirk made it clear he was happy to let Patrick proceed with his visual inspection.  
  
“If she didn’t hit on you first, she’d probably threaten me if I didn’t talk to you. We’ve been best friends since high school and she has a lot of dirt on me.”  
“Scandalous. Tell me a juicy story.” David shimmied his shoulders. Patrick was so damn charmed and one-hundred-percent in trouble.  
  
“In high school, I orchestrated a kidnapping of our rival high school’s mascot, which, coincidentally, is how I learned I’m allergic to cats. I had to lie to my mom about my allergic reaction and why I needed Benadryl. Nearly fifteen years later, she’d probably still ground me if she found out.”  
  
David’s shoulders shook and his eyes squeezed closed for a moment as he laughed. “How bad was the reaction? Are we talking Will Smith in _Hitch_ level allergic reaction?”  
  
Patrick remembered Rachel making him watch that. “Damn near. Mom almost took me to the ER.”  
  
“I have so many follow-up questions and I don’t know where to begin.”  
  
Patrick took another swig of his drink and waited him out. Sharing embarrassing high school stories wasn’t exactly the flirting strategy he’d expected to employ, but David didn’t seem to mind judging by the way he leaned forward and scrutinized him with sharp eyes.  
  
“What kind of school has a cat as a mascot?”  
  
“That’s the question you decided to go with?”  
  
David nodded seriously. “It’s a fair question.”  
  
Charmed, in trouble, and fond. Very fond. “A few years before I started high school, the student body at the other school convinced the school board to let them vote for a new mascot, and I’ve heard tales of a fierce competition between a Tuxedo cat and a dragon.”  
  
David leaned closer and spoke into Patrick’s ear. “Would’ve been a lot harder to orchestrate the kidnapping of a dragon.”  
  
Patrick couldn’t stop the laughter that burst out. Once he’d calmed, he leaned forward until his face almost touched David’s and spoke back into his ear. “You underestimate my abilities, David.”  
  
David appraised him. “I didn’t expect someone with a boy-next-door vibe to have such a mouth on him.”  
“If you only knew the mouth I have on me,” Patrick said with a confidence not backed by experience.  
  
David’s grin revealed two deep dimples. “You’re fun.”  
  
He took another sip of his drink because he couldn’t think of a way to respond to that, and he feared his well of flirty banter had run dry.  
  
Patrick had no idea how much time passed as they talked and flirted and told silly stories. He was completely mesmerized by this animated man who he sorta wondered if he’d _Weird Science_ ’d into his orbit somehow.  
  
“Ooooh, I love this song! Dance with me.” David hopped off the stool in a flash and grabbed Patrick’s hand.  
  
Patrick accepted David’s hand and he damn near winced at the jolt racing through his skin. David froze for a moment and they locked eyes. Z.I.N.G.  
  
David turned and pulled them toward the dance area. He didn’t know many of Adam Lambert’s songs, but he’d been known to belt _If I Had You_ in the shower a time or twelve. David’s shoulders and hips bounced to the beat until he stopped them near a wall in the back corner. The small smirk that seemed to be his default setting had been replaced by a gleeful smile as David’s moves grew more lively. Patrick couldn’t help but return one of his own.  
  
David closed his eyes and tipped his head back as he moved his tall, lean body to the beat. Shaking off the hips, shimmying of the shoulders, arms above his head. Patrick was an exceedingly mediocre dancer, but he didn’t care. He was dancing with the most alluring man he’d ever met.  
  
Without realizing it, Patrick had begun to sing the song as he danced, but he’d noticed when David’s smile widened and he started singing too. Patrick couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so carefree.  
  
David grabbed Patrick’s hands and pulled him close so their bodies were almost flush against each other. He directed Patrick’s arms to the side, up, down, backward, in a circle. They ended with David pulling Patrick’s hands around his waist. He could take a hint. He clutched David’s hips under the edge of his leather jacket as he moved his own hips to the beat. Their knees interlocked in a way that managed to feel both filthy and tame. David’s arms fell around Patrick’s shoulders like they were always meant to be there. The perfect fit.  
  
_But if I had you, that would be the only thing I’d ever need. Yeah, if I had you, then money, fame, and fortune never could compete.  
_   
Patrick softly sang the rest of the song as he and David stared into each other’s eyes. He let his thumbs hook over the waistband of David’s jeans. His olive skin was so damn tantalizing, and he wanted to see more of it. All of it. David leaned closer as the song progressed, to a point where they were barely moving beyond swaying side-to-side.  
  
_If I had you. Life would be a party. It’d be ecstasy.  
_   
Patrick looked at David’s lips and watched them move closer. Closer. So close. He closed his eyes and felt David’s lips against his.  
  
Zing! ZING. ZINGZINGZINGZINGSDKFHWEFHIGHFOIAVNLWEKFNO;IEHZINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGOMFG.  
  
The world fell away around them. There was only the press of David’s lips, the heat of his body, the feel of his fingers tickling the nape of his neck, the woodsy aroma of his skin.  
  
_This._ This was what he’d been looking for. The few guys he’d kissed since coming out had been enough to confirm his preferences, but nowhere near the scale of this kiss. This was in an entirely different galaxy.  
  
When David pulled back, Patrick’s eyes flew open, and he watched David’s mouth part slightly and shift into a small smile as his eyes stayed closed. Patrick smiled and kissed him, running his tongue along the seam of his lips until David opened his mouth. The resulting _zing_ reverberated through Patrick’s body and damn near caused cardiac arrest.  
  
Patrick eventually pulled away to catch his breath. “Wow.”  
  
“Yeah. That was, um. Yeah.”  
  
Patrick couldn’t bite back his grin. A business major from rural Ontario who didn’t come out until his thirties had gotten that reaction from a guy who looked like he could get any person he wanted. Fuck.  
  
David leaned in and Patrick felt the tickle of lips against his ear. “Hey, do you wanna get out of here?”  
  
He nodded because there was no way words would work. They made their way back to the bar to close their tabs. Nerves settled in and started to smother the zing. It didn’t help that the bartender winked and giving him a knowing look.  
  
The playful energy they’d had in the time they’d talked had shifted. For Patrick, it felt like a dangerous cocktail of terror over fucking up and shock that David wanted to “get out of here” with Patrick. A guy whose entire wardrobe probably cost less than David’s leather jacket.  
  
This time, Patrick grabbed David’s hand and led him out of the bar. He’s a take-charge kind of guy and he needed to take charge of his nerves. They cleared the front door, and Patrick led them around the corner to a side street. He didn’t have a plan and moved on instinct, which was a rare occurrence for him. If he didn’t kiss David again now to break the ice, he’d get all up in his head and ruin it.  
  
Once they were out of sight from the bar’s front windows, he turned and grabbed David by the shoulders and kissed the ever loving shit out of him. Tongues and teeth and lips slamming against each other. David turned them and pressed Patrick against the wall. The weight of David’s body and heat of his tongue as it traced down Patrick’s neck had all the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick.  
  
“Fuck. David.”  
  
“I’m open to discussing that. Shall we take this to your place?”  
  
Patrick nodded. “Yeah. Yup. Mmmm.” David nibbled at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.  
  
“I’ll call us a ride.” With how close they were, he felt David reach into his pocket.  
  
“Yeah, okay.” He pulled David’s hips against his and moaned at the feeling of David’s hardness, knowing that he was just as turned on. Patrick had a plan now. He wanted to get David naked and horizontal so he could explore every inch of him without interruption.  
  
Shit. Wait. “David, wait. Can we go back to your place?”  
  
David pulled back, and Patrick immediately felt the loss. “Why? Are you married or something?” His voice went shrill.  
  
“No! God no. I’m very, very single.” He cupped David’s face and waited until he nodded. Patrick didn’t want to admit his living situation. “Can we go to your place?”  
  
David shook his head. “I, um, no. We can’t.” He looked away and seemed almost embarrassed.  
  
Patrick’s heart sunk to his feet. “Are you married or something?”  
  
“No. Ew. I’m also very, very single. There’s no, um, privacy where I live.”  
  
Patrick could tell there was something David was holding back, but he didn’t push it. “Yeah, that’s kind of the problem for me too.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “I have a roommate. He’s really nice, but fuck. He’s nosy and has zero boundaries. Ray is sort of an open-the-door-now-and-knock-later kind of guy. Since I live in his home, and sort of office? I can’t really get too pissed about it.” God. He sounded so pathetic.  
  
David blinked at him. “Ray? Home and office?” He took a step back. “Do you live with Ray _Butani?!_ ”  
  
Patrick’s mouth dropped. “Yeah, how do you know him?” He took a step toward David as he tried to follow the threads of possibilities swirling around his mind. He’d already been thinking about how to make whatever was going to happen _something._ Something far more than a hook-up. But if he knew Ray, then…  
David’s laugh was hollow. “Everyone in Schitt’s Creek knows Ray.” He looked away.  
  
Patrick’s face damn-near split in half with his smile. “You live in Schitt’s Creek too?” He put his hands back on David’s waist and pulled him close.  
David slid a small smile to the side of his mouth. “Too? You live there?”  
  
“David?” He hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of David’s pants. “David.”  
  
“What?” His tone was snippy, but the smile he was clearly trying to hold back softened the blow.  
  
“Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night? Cafe Tropical at seven? I can make us reservations so we’re sure to get a table.” He grinned.  
  
David’s face went on… a journey. It moved too fast for Patrick to parse the emotions, but he wanted to map every single one.  
  
“Let me get this straight.” David wrapped his arms around Patrick’s shoulders, and Patrick damn near melted into a puddle.  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“I try to take you back to your place for some sex.”  
  
A flush raced through Patrick’s body. “Sex?” He squeaked out.  
  
“Well, yeah. Usually if someone says ‘do you want to get out of here’ in a bar, that means sex of some sort.”  
  
“Noted.” Patrick cleared his throat. “Go on.”  
  
David’s fingers toyed with the nape of Patrick’s neck. “And when you discover that neither of us has a suitable place for sex, and that we live in the same town, you _ask me on a date._ Knowing full well that neither of us have a place to go to and fuck in after.”  
  
If words could cause spontaneous combustion, Patrick would be dust. The way the David purred the word _fuck_ damn near made Patrick come in his jeans. “Your ability to summarize a complex situation into a couple of sentences is really sexy.” He kissed David’s neck.  
  
David chuckled. “But why though?”  
  
“Why what?” Patrick continued licking and kissing David’s neck. Entranced by the way the stubble scratched his tongue.  
  
“Why do you want to go on a date with me?”  
  
Patrick picked up on the uncertainty in his voice so he stopped kissing to look David in the eyes. “Because I want to get to know you and I’d like to go on a date with you.”  
  
“Okay, but _why?_ ”  
  
Patrick pulled his hands from David’s back pockets and wrapped them tightly around David’s waist as he considered his words, which took a lot of effort given his alcohol consumption. But David had gone from being confident Mr. Leather Jacket on the prowl to a sexy and vulnerable man who seemed cautiously hopeful of Patrick’s interest in him. “Because for the first time, possibly ever, I feel _something_. Attraction, yes. Absolutely. But more than that. I want to get to know you. I want to know what makes you laugh and pisses you off. I want to know what you find edible off of that ridiculously gigantic cafe menu.” He ran his palm up and down David’s back under his jacket. “My gut is telling me that there’s something here worth exploring.”  
  
David rested his forehead against Patrick’s. “I went to the bar looking to get my dick sucked and end up meeting Earnest Brown who wants to take me on a date and get to know me without the promise of any dick sucking?” He let out a long breath. “I mean, yeah. I’d be an asshole not to say yes to that.”  
  
Patrick laughed. “So charming. I’m really glad that my winning personality and good looks have convinced you to _not be an asshole._ ”  
  
David’s smirk returned. “Okay, maybe I’m interested in getting to know you too. I’d especially love to know what goes on in that brain of yours—” he tapped the side of Patrick’s head “—that tells you it’s a good idea to buy shirts with a poly blend. Yet somehow you look scrumptious.”  
  
“Scrumptious? That sounds promising.”  
  
David kissed him, and Patrick felt the smile against his mouth.  
  
“One date. If I’m a schmuck, you can tell me to fuck off. If I’m not, maybe you’ll get your dick sucked in the back of my car. But I only put out on the third date.”  
David bit his lower lip. “I suppose I can agree to those terms.”  
  
“Good. Ready for that ride? We could share it back. Where do you live?”  
  
David groaned. “The motel.”  
  
Patrick’s eyes went wide as things clicked in his brain. “Oh! You’re David Rose!” God, that made so much sense.  
  
With his eyes squeezed closed, David faced the dark sky. “Do I even want to know what you’ve heard?”  
  
Patrick took the opportunity to kiss David’s Adam’s apple. “Nothing bad at all. You know how chatty Ray is. I’d hoped to run in to you at some point, actually.”  
  
David tucked a smile into the side of his mouth. “Oh?”  
  
“I worked at a Rose Video in high school and we used to get your family’s holiday cards. You really grew into your eyebrows.” He managed a straight face.  
  
David gasped and swatted Patrick’s shoulder. “Okay, rude. Also, I have a few questions.”  
  
“How many of them have to do with fishing for embarrassing high school stories at the Rose Video?”  
  
“Most of them.”  
  
He kissed David briefly and basked in the warmth spreading in his chest. “That’s a fifth date conversation.” Maybe he’d even tell David how, reflecting back, those holiday cards should have been an early clue that Patrick liked men.  
  
“You are pretty convincing, Patrick.”  
  
Patrick beamed at him. “I’m glad we met here instead of Schitt’s Creek. Somehow I think this setting did me more favors than the cafe would have.”  
  
David’s laughter was warm. “Ah, yes, that queer pop-up glow. Though, I feel like I’m at a bit of a disadvantage. You know more about me than I know about you.”  
  
Patrick grabbed David’s hand and kissed the back of it. “How about you ask me any questions you want until we’re back in Schitt’s Creek so you feel like we’re on an even playing field during our date tomorrow.”  
  
David tugged his lips between his teeth for a moment. “Deal. And please, no more sports metaphors.”  
  
“Can’t promise that, David. But if it helps, I’ve been told my baseball uniform makes my ass look great.” He let his hands roam down David’s as he said it.  
  
“I suppose I wouldn’t mind seeing that.” David smiled into another kiss.  
  
“You’ll have to come to a game when the weather warms up.”  
  
“If you’re not tired of me by then.”  
  
Patrick smiled. “David Rose, I don’t think I could ever get tired of you.”  
  
After David ordered their Lyft, Patrick handed David his phone. “Can I get your number? My best friend told me I can’t contact her until I got a guy’s number.”  
  
David grabbed the phone and began tapping. “Just any guy, huh?”  
  
“She’s not picky, but I am.”  
  
David’s grin broke into a full smile and it was the most beautiful thing Patrick had ever seen. David launched the camera app on Patrick’s phone and turned it to selfie mode. The next few moments were a delicious assault on his senses. Feeling the press of David’s lips against his cheek as he looked at his own reflection. A smile bigger than he’d seen on his face in years and the crinkle at the corner of David’s eye as he smiled into the cheek kiss. It was perfect.  
  
“There. Now you have proof to send her.”  
  
Thank Christ for queer pop-up night. He definitely would have regretted staying home.


End file.
